#human trafficking hub

[h0neylevi]

Chapter Two

After a major shift, your life has become a series of monotonous routines. Eat, sleep, go to work, repeat. But when you find a man bleeding on the subway with no idea how he got there, things become anything but ordinary.

General content warnings: isekai/parallel universe, modern AU, mentions of blood and canon-typical violence, some light angst, eventual smut.

chapter warnings: brief discussion of human trafficking

word count: 3.2k

“Where did you find him again?”

“On my way home last night on the subway.”

“... And he was–”

“In the full scout uniform, yeah.”

Your friend and fellow nurse, Allie, pauses in the wake of your words, eyes fixed on the door at the other end of the hall where one of the hospital’s doctors took Levi to be examined.

They’ve been back there for over an hour now, and you’re starting to get nervous. If this goes badly, you’re never going to live it down with your coworkers.

“Is he hot?”

Your jaw hangs when Allie’s words register, and you turn back to her with an incredulous look.

“I told you all that and that’s what you take from it?”

She raises her hands up in a defensive gesture. “I’m just saying, if the universe decided to drop a man into my lap that thought he was Erwin Smith, I would take advantage of the situation.”

That, oddly enough, makes you laugh.

“He isn’t Levi Ackerman,” you say once you’ve calmed down. “He probably just hit his head on the way from a costume party and got confused.”

On the other side of the nurse’s station, Allie groans and gets up. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I’m being realistic,” you defend.

“We see weirder things walk into this hospital every day.”

“I think an anime character come to life would surpass anything we’ve ever seen.”

With a defeated little sigh, she grabs a file and rounds the corner. “Well, whatever he is, I have to get back to work.” She taps the file on your shoulder as she passes. “Have fun with Beyblade. Let me know what Paul says.”

Just as she starts down the corridor, the door at the end of the hall opens and Dr. Paul Holloway exits the exam room. His expression is solemn as he gestures for you to join him.

“Thank you again for doing this on such short notice, Dr. Holloway,” you greet him. “Did you find out anything?”

He looks down for a moment at the clipboard in his hand. “Well, the only thing really to note is that he doesn’t seem to know what year it is or where he is, but all of his tests and scans came back normal. Cognition and reflexes otherwise seem to be just fine.”

He rifles through the pages for a moment before continuing. “There are no drugs in his system, and no significant injuries that I could find that would cause this sort of temporary amnesia, so I would have to refer him out to a specialist if you wanted more answers. But as of now, my only guess could be that maybe he was trafficked and escaped. Possibly in a fugue state for so long that he has no recollection of how he got here.”

You listen intently. That wouldn’t explain the clothes you found him in, but it’s worth considering all the same. Large cities were usually hubs for human trafficking. It’s more likely than Allie’s theory at least.

Dr. Holloway seems to sense your thought process. “He should recover his memories soon, but I would suggest maybe filing a police report. I’m sure he has a family out there somewhere who’s missing him.”

You consider it. “Yeah,” you say, nodding. “I’ll mention it. Thanks again, Dr. Holloway.”

“Of course.”

You wait quietly as he opens the exam room door again and beckons Levi out.

He’s just as passive as ever when he sees you waiting. With a departing nod, Dr. Holloway continues down the hall to another exam room.

“So,” you begin, “how are you feeling?”

“Like a test subject,” Levi grumbles, falling into step with you. “Four-Eyes would love this place.”

You turn to look at him. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” he quickly says. “So, are you satisfied now? I can go?”

You walk through the nearby exit door on the side of the building and onto the street.

“Well, Dr. Holloway didn’t find anything wrong, so I guess you’re welcome to go wherever you like,” you say. “But I really think you should go to the police. I think something really bad has happened to you, Levi. They might be able to help you.”

While you speak, Levi looks around, studying the cars as they pass and the tall buildings.

“Somehow, I doubt that,” he sighs. “I think I’m too far from home to go back.”

The recognition that bleeds through his tone makes you curious. “Do you remember where you’re from?”

“It doesn’t matter.” His mouth twists into a frown. “It’s definitely not around here.”

You want to keep pressing but ultimately decide against it. It isn’t as if it’s any of your business, but you feel a sense of responsibility for his well-being. You were the one who found him, and if you have the means to help him get to where he needs to go, you’d be willing to offer. It isn’t as if you’ve got anything else going on in your life, but you can only do so much when he doesn’t want you to pry into his personal life.

“Well...” you trail off, unsure. “I need to get some groceries but once we get back to my place, I can wash your clothes before you leave. That’ll give you some time to decide what you want to do.”

To your surprise, it doesn’t take him long to agree.

“Okay,” he nods. “Let’s go.”

**

The supermarket isn’t far from your apartment, so you get onto the city metro together. It’s a familiar route to you, but it’s clear that Levi isn’t accustomed to the amount of people that cram themselves together into the narrow space at once.

There aren’t any seats when you climb on, so you’re forced to stand together in one of the corner exits. At the very least, Levi remembers to grab onto one of the handrails just before the train starts moving—an action that he still seems to find disgusting despite the necessity.

“What?” you laugh at his pinched expression.

“I think I preferred it the way it was last night,” he remarks, not doing anything to hide his distaste while looking around. “How often do these things get cleaned?”

You blink. “Uh, I don’t know. Probably only when something seriously hazardous happens. Like blood or puke.”

The look on his face only grows.

“Don’t worry. I have sanitizer in my bag. I can give you some when we get off,” you promise. “I never got rid of the habit from covid.”

The way Levi’s brows furrow suggest that he doesn’t know what either of those things are either, but you just shake your head, wordlessly promising to explain later.

Once you’re off the train and back out onto the street, you move to the side to pull the aforementioned bottle out of your bag. Levi watches quietly until you reach and squeeze some of the liquid into his upturned palm.

He lifts it closer to his face. “What is this?”

“It’s sanitizer,” you say, rubbing your hands together. “Just rub it in like this. It kills the germs on your hands that you can get from touching random surfaces.”

He follows your example, albeit a bit more slowly, and you set off again down the street.

The rest of the walk is done mostly in silence. Thankfully, Levi doesn’t seem to mind. He chooses mostly to walk along beside you, occasionally looking up at skyscrapers as you pass them or balk at the occasional interaction on the street. There’s a sense of wonder and curiosity that settles on his face, smoothing out the stern glare that you’ve seen him wear since you first found him on the metro.

It really is like he’s never seen anything like it before, and you wonder again about his history. He doesn’t seem afraid of anything, merely curious as he walks, and he carries himself confidently. Like a soldier…

No, that was Allie influencing your thoughts. There’s no way this man was the Levi Ackerman. Even if he had his hair, his stature, the same sullen expression, and similar mannerisms to ones you’ve seen in the anime. It’s an impossible thought. You’re not even considering it.

“What are you staring at?”

You blink and realize that he’s looking at you now and holy shit, his eyes are even that shade of blue-grey.

You turn forward again just as a crosswalk changes for you to go. “Nothing,” you say quickly. “You just… remind me of someone.”

He doesn’t reply—most likely because he doesn’t care—but you’re grateful that he doesn’t pay it any mind.

But by the time you’ve entered the supermarket and grabbed a cart, your curiosity outweighs your hesitation.

“Can I ask you something?”

Beside you, Levi scans the produce aisle you’re approaching with passive interest. “That depends.”

Ignoring him, you press forward. “Is there some reason you won’t tell me what’s going on?”

You speak and he turns to look at you, his brows furrowed.

“I mean, it’s pretty obvious that there’s more to what happened than you’re letting on,” you continue. “And I know it’s none of my business, but…”

“You’re right. It is none of your business.”

The comment stings more than you expect, but you try to quickly brush it off. You don’t know this man, and in a matter of an hour or so he’ll be gone. You’d promised yourself that as long as he was healthy, you wouldn’t meddle.

But after everything you’ve done for him, it still feels unfair to treat you so dismissively. He acts like you’re a nuisance more than the person who cleaned him up and gave him a place to sleep out of the cold.

The ensuing silence is tense. You push your cart forward, suddenly eager to get out as quickly as possible. The faster you get home, the quicker he leaves. If that’s what he wants after everything you’ve done, he can have it.

You’re moving through the selection of deli cheeses when Levi speaks up again.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he says in a low voice. “I wouldn’t believe it myself if I wasn’t witnessing it with my own eyes.”

You look around, following his gaze as it skims over the refrigerated walls of pre-packaged meat and cheese.

“What are you talking about? It’s a grocery store.”

He huffs. “That doctor said the year was 2024.”

You change course, leading the way into an aisle of canned goods. “Yeah?”

It’s quiet for a long moment. Levi’s arms are crossed over his chest as he follows along.

“I don’t know how it happened, but I’m not from here.” He pauses for a moment as you pull some cans from a shelf and place them in your cart. “I’m not from this time.”

You stop for a moment and look at him. On his face is the same look he had the night before, that same sincerity when he told you he’d been looking for some sort of headquarters.

You can’t help it. You chuckle. “You’re talking about time travel.”

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

You continue down the aisle and turn into the next one. “Levi, there’s never been a recorded instance of time travel…ever. It’s never happened.”

Levi rolls his eyes. “See? You don’t believe me.”

“It isn’t about believing you. It’s impossible.”

But even as you say it, you don’t feel entirely convinced that it’s true.

Improbable, sure. Very unlikely. Insane that you’re even considering it, but the more you think about it, the more the pieces seem to fall into place.

The way you found him, his clothes, the way he looks around at everything like he’s seeing it all for the first time. There’s no indication that he has a serious head injury, so you can’t fall back on that anymore. And the trafficking? Well… You’ve been trained to look for red flags, and nothing about his situation seems to fit with that explanation.

Plus, there are the coins you found in the pockets of his clothes this morning. Copper and silver ones bearing symbols you don’t recognize. The silhouette of a woman in a crown.

You’d looked up every conceivable country that you could think of that might fit the bill and nothing had matched.

There’s no way that what he’s saying is true though, right? If you believe him, you’d have to believe all of it—meaning that he is Levi Ackerman and that the events of Attack on Titan are real.

No, that’s silly. In all of recorded history, there’s never been a single event that coincides with the existence of man-eating titans. Belief in giants is a fringe theory not backed by actual evidence.

But, still. Just to humor him.

“What time are you from then?” you ask.

“854.”

You stop and stare at him. “You realize that’s…over a thousand years ago, right?”

With his mouth in a thin line, Levi nods.

You continue to stare, waiting for a break in his composure. The inevitable laugh that will surely come, marking this entire conversation as a joke, but it never comes.

“You’re serious,” you finally say.

Levi blinks. “You believe me?”

God, what do you believe? “I…” You bring your hands to your face. The middle of the pasta aisle is not the place to be weighing the possibility of time travel. “No,” you finally say. “I mean, I don’t know…can you prove it?”

Levi raises a brow. “How am I supposed to prove it to you?”

“I don’t know. You’re the one claiming to be over a thousand years old.”

“I’m not claiming to be—” he cuts himself off with an irritated sigh. “You’re just as bad as the brats back home.”

Something in your patience finally snaps.

You start walking again, needing space. “You know, you could stand to be a bit nicer to me considering all I’ve done for you.”

For a long moment, there’s only the rattling sound of the cart’s wheels as they roll down the aisle.

“I am grateful,” Levi finally says, surprisingly still following next to you. “But I didn’t ask you to interfere.”

“Well, most people wouldn’t have just left a man to bleed all over the metro. I’m sorry I have basic human decency.”

“Basic human decency would have been pointing me in the direction of the nearest sink,” he points out. “You let me sleep on your couch.”

You turn to glare at him. “I’m sorry, are you complaining right now?”

“I’m saying that I don’t like owing people,” he says.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “You don’t owe me anything. I would have done the same thing for anyone.”

Levi doesn’t look like he completely believes you, but at least he lets the matter rest. 

He follows you the rest of the way through the store in thoughtful silence.

Left to your own devices, you grab things without thinking, relying on muscle memory to lead you to the items you usually buy. It isn’t as if you deviate much from your favorite meals, so the rest of the process is quick.

By the time you’ve grabbed everything you need, your mood has improved enough that you feel a bit remorseful for doubting him.

Even if it was a weird idea, Levi appeared genuine. Like Dr. Holloway had said, he’d probably regain his memories soon. If he really didn’t remember anything about modern life, he was going to need someone to help him.

Maybe he shouldn’t leave so soon.

It isn’t until you turn around to speak that you realize you’re alone. A quick look around the aisle confirms that Levi’s nowhere to be seen. That’s odd. When had he wandered off?

You begin searching back through the aisles and after a few minutes, you spot him. Standing in front of the long, neat shelves lined with tea and coffee. Something akin to dread settles into your stomach at the sight.

He glances over as you approach and places a box back on the shelf. A beat passes before he clears his throat and says, “I’ve never seen so much tea in one place before.”

“Do you want some?” you ask, glancing at the box he put back—a black tea blend. He doesn’t respond, simply skimming over the labels again with a peculiar glint in his eye.

You don’t wait for an answer and pluck the box off of the shelf. He doesn’t stop you as you place it into your cart.

It’s a truce. An apology and an acknowledgment that you’re helping him all in one.

You turn your cart back around and lead the way toward the front. “I’m all done. Let’s go.”

**

The walk back home isn’t as tense as before, but it isn’t exactly comfortable either.

You keep watching Levi every chance you get. He appears more thoughtful. His gaze lingers just as it always has on the buildings and the people walking past. Cars, billboards, restaurants, all of it.

It’s got to be overwhelming. Not that you're believing him, but if he believes that he isn’t from this time, it has to be a shock to see so many unfamiliar things at once.

“What are you thinking about?” you finally ask.

His expression remains passive as he takes a deep breath, like he’s grounding himself. “Everything just looks so…”

“Artificial?” you supply when he pauses, but the look on his face tells you he’s confused by the word you use. You try again. “Uh, not natural?”

“I was going to say clean.” His voice goes soft as he looks around again. “The air is clean.”

Not sure how to respond, you turn forward and continue down the street.

It doesn’t take much longer to reach your apartment.

Levi helps carry the bags of groceries upstairs and into your kitchen, where he stands awkwardly as you unload everything into their respective spots. Luna, still curious, climbs onto the table nearby, making Levi scowl.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t shoo her away when he decides to take a seat, and he even goes so far as to let her sniff him as he looks out of the window.

You smile when you hear her chirp. A noise that you know she makes when she feels like she’s being ignored.

“You can pet her, you know?” you look over your shoulder to tell him.

He meets you with a bored look. “I know. I don’t want to.”

As if she can understand him, Luna meows again.

After you put the last item away in your fridge, you move to sit at the table across from him.

“So what are you going to do?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he replies, and for the first time, he sounds truly at a loss.

“Well, you’re welcome to keep staying here for a bit longer,” you say, petting Luna when she slinks over to you. “Until we figure something out.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “We,” he repeats.

You meet his gaze evenly. “Look, I don’t know where you came from or how you got here, but you’re here now and you’re still a human being. As long as you’re open to letting me help, I will.”

He seems to think on it for a moment before agreeing. “There are worse things in the world, I suppose.”

And you think that’s as close to a thank you as you’ll get.

[makethatelevenrings]

Torture and Trust // S. Riley x f!reader

warnings: waterboarding, reader is physically hit and tortured, reader is threatened with sexual assault in one (1) line, canon-typical violence, swearing

A part two to this but also doesn't need to be read before this. I'm kind of making a little universe in my head but idk. We vibin'.

It was the shock of cold water smashing against your face that woke you up. To be honest, you weren’t really asleep. You had been drifting between the space between consciousness and sleep, lured there from a few nasty hits to the head and exhaustion.

It was supposed to be a simple recon mission before the rest of the team came in to aid the retrieval of an asset. It was a warehouse tucked away in the streets of Tokyo that was apparently the hub of a human trafficking ring. MI5 had tasked the military to dispatch a SpecOps team since British citizens were targeted, something that had you grumbling under your breath because it shouldn’t take someone’s fucking citizenship to determine if they needed help. Explosives would be a bad idea considering how metropolitan the area was, even if it wasn’t very busy in this area. So you and Lieutenant Riley were tasked with figuring out a solid entry point and a tally of guards.

Simon had agreed to split up so he could canvass the west side of the building and see how many guards were stationed while you took the east side. It just so happened that the second-in-command to shithead in charge himself spotted the flash of your rifle scope and the next thing you know, you were strapped to a chair in the middle of the warehouse.

Your chest heaved as you caught your breath and you let out a small laugh as you regarded the two men in front of you. Being in the SAS, you were no secret to torture. Everyone knew that one step of the training was to go through seventy-two hours of pure hell and sleep deprivation to see who broke and who didn’t. This was child’s play compared to that.

“Your swing is getting better,” you said through bloodied teeth. “But that follow through is what we need to work on.”

A hand fisted in the back of your head and shoved your forward, directly into the trough of water they had placed in front of you. Waterboarding was always an interesting exercise. You knew it was coming and had inhaled sharply, focusing your attention on anything but the air slowly leaking from your lungs as he held you in there for maybe a minute. Your thoughts drifted to other things, like the ramen you and Simon split in the safehouse the night before. It had been a few months since he grew comfortable enough with taking the mask off in front of you so now you savored the few moments you saw of his face. He seemed almost tentative without his mask, as though he was aware of how beastly his scars made him look.

You pondered over if he knew just how beautiful he was.

They yanked you back out of the water and you didn’t know what time it was. It was certainly darker than it had been when you were first nabbed from your lookout point. Certainly long enough that Simon was aware of your predicament. So that meant you were running out of time. Two in front of you, three guards behind. Your hands strained against the rope and duct tape mixture that bound your wrists and ankles to the sides of the chairs.

“Who do you work for?” the boss hissed. You blinked up at him innocently through the water that clung to your lashes and shrugged.

“Can’t a girl just chill around here? God forbid women do anything.” You braced yourself for a hit that never came. Instead, he grabbed your jaw and squeezed, forcing your teeth to clack together with a sharp jolt and a bite to your tongue, adding more blood to mix with the cuts already present from the lackluster punches delivered earlier.

“Not with that level of weaponry. Try again.”

“You got me. I’m one of Santa’s elves and he wanted to make sure you were being a good boy this year. I’d hate to let him know that-” Your words were cut off as you were shoved back into the water. Ramen. How many meals had you two shared at this point? He had even started bringing you dinner to your office since he could take his mask off there rather than in the chow hall. You wouldn’t lie, you were starting to get tired. Your lungs burned from the fight to breathe and inhale the water, but you tried to shut off the small part of your brain that sent up signals of panic.

You didn’t need to worry, you reminded yourself. Just hold on a little longer.

“If you don’t start giving me real answers, maybe I’ll let some of our clients get it out of you. They’d love that,” the boss snarled when you were let up for air. Your gut tugged uncomfortably at the implication. It was always something that you had to keep in the back of your mind. Being a woman, military or not, always meant that it was a threat held over your head, simply for existing. It was why you were so eager to destroy their whole operation.

“How about you go fuck yourself?” Gathering up the blood and spit in your mouth, you forced your tongue back and then spat the putrid mix all over his face and the pristine white collar of his shirt. Rage flickered across his face and he stood up straight.

“Get me the pliers. If she won’t talk, we’ll make sure she screams.”

Well, you mused, what was a few less nails and teeth except less maintenance?

As his little goon walked off to whatever evil lair table of doom they had set up, your ears tuned into the silence around you. The typical sounds of the city met your ears, along with…there.

“I’m afraid, boys, that you’re out of time,” you said softly. A smile tugged painfully at your swollen and cut lips but you pushed past the pain. “This has been fun, truly, but I can’t lie and say I’ll miss you.”

The boss’ hand was heavy on the back of your neck as he held you down into the water. Even through the distorted splashes and fuzziness in your mind, you could hear five audible pops. You knew what they saw in their last moments. You knew that the Ghost emerged from the shadows, steps silent despite the fact that he was more muscle than man, and you knew that these men felt fear seconds before a bullet silenced their cruel minds.

He tugged you up out of the water and you inhaled deeply, the sound harsh and grating on your sensitive ears. Blinking the water out of your eyes, you came face to face with a mask that most said elicited a bone deep terror in them.

But not you.

“Right on time,” you panted. He said nothing as he cut the bindings holding you down and inspected the way that they had rubbed some of your skin away, leaving it tender and bleeding. Simon turned to look at the leader of all of this and you realized that he didn’t kill him. The man was dragging himself towards his discarded gun on the ground, blood oozing from his ruined kneecap. Ghost stalked towards him and lifted him up and away from his weapon. He regarded the little weasel coolly and then glanced back at you. You tried to push yourself up and out of the chair but your legs shook under you and instead, you collapsed back against the metal.

“Warehouse is clear,” Soap announced as he, Gaz, and Price entered. “Christ, bonnie, you look like shite.”

“You charmer,” you muttered. Gaz rushed to your side to help you up and you were grateful for your team. Your friends.

“This him?” Price asked as he joined Simon.

“Yeah.” It was the first time he’d spoken since he entered the building. “Keep him alive. I want to be the one to interrogate him.”

If it were anyone else, Price would agree. But seeing the slight tremor in Simon’s hands where he gripped the man’s suit jacket and then looking over to where Gaz was supporting your half-conscious form, he knew that putting Simon alone in a room with the man would result in a very messy clean up.

“We’ll worry about that when we get them back to base,” Price said. “We need to get her to medical.”

Four days into your medical leave and you were growing antsy. Soap and Gaz tried to keep you entertained and Price offered you an opportunity to yell at some cadets, but you were bored. You missed moving your body more than just the walk from your room to your office to the chow hall and back. But the doctor had threatened to strap you to a bed for a week while you let your body get back to normal after, and her words were, “you got your shit rocked. I know you SpecOps bastards think you’re invincible but anyone would need to take a fucking break after being tortured.” So, here you were, sitting in your office and writing up a mission plan for another team because Price knew you were getting twitchy without anything to do.

Two knocks, sharp and perfunctory, caught your attention. You called for whoever it was to enter, but you already knew who it would be. How many times had he laid that same knock upon your door? You once said that he might as well move into your office and he had regarded it for a moment thoughtfully, as if he was genuinely considering it.

“Four days of silence from you. Thought I did something wrong,” you commented lightly as Ghost entered and shut the door behind him. He didn’t take his usual seat, the plush wheelie chair you invested in when you joined the team and realized that he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. Simon dropped a tray onto your desk and then stalked away, his shoulders tense and bristling like a scared cat.

A quick glance at the time confirmed that your trap had worked. He always noticed if you missed a meal, usually because you were invested in something you were working on. Everyone had their own quirk or vice and that was yours.

He brought you beef stew over rice, a quintessential British meal that was surprisingly appetizing despite the cook’s minimal care. A shiny red apple sat beside it and, as if he read your thoughts, Simon whirled around and yanked it off of the tray. He extracted a knife from his pocket and started to carve the apple into slices that he dropped onto the tray and then turned around and began to stare at the wall once more. You simply grabbed one of the slices and chewed on it while waiting for him to speak.

“That was stupid,” his rough voice broke the silence. You scoffed and stopped chewing.

“What, getting captured? I didn’t fucking plan on it.”

“No. For not trying to escape.”

A dry, startled laugh escaped you and you scrubbed the heel of your hand over your forehead. “Five men with guns and me with nothing, tied to a chair. Yeah, fair chance of running without a bullet in the back.”

“You didn’t even try.”

“I didn’t have to. I knew you were coming.”

He turned to glare at you from behind that infamous mask and you cocked your head to the side. “That doesn’t scare me, Simon, and you know it. Take the mask off.”

He hesitated and then reached up and yanked it off, revealing the sharp line of his jaw, the scars around his mouth, and those freckles that speckled across his nose and cheeks. You could see him better and, therefore, read him better. His eyes told you he was angry. His tight jaw told you he was scared.

“You can’t just sit there and fucking die because you’re waiting for me, you can’t do that.”

“Why? You’re my teammate. I trust that you would come for me.”

“What if I hadn’t?” You shook your head at his question, at the absurdity of it. Was he hearing himself? Was he that consumed by whatever foolish notion that had somehow worked its way into his head? You pushed away from your desk and stood up so you could cross the floor to stand toe to toe with him. 

“What if what if what if, fuck the what ifs, Simon. You. Wouldn’t. Leave. Me. Behind.” Each word was punctuated with a jab to his chest.

“And what if I had been injured, yeah? What then?” God, he was insufferable.

“You really mean to tell me that you wouldn’t crawl through broken glass to get to one of us.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Would you have this conversation with Soap or Gaz or Price? Then why are you so insistent about it with me? I was doing my job. Are you saying I can’t trust you? Trust my team? Because I can. I do. Don’t start telling me I shouldn’t.”

“You can. For fuck’s sake, you can.”

“You said it yourself, Simon, this job is dangerous and I knew the risks going in so I don’t know why you’re so insistent on thi-“

He tasted like nicotine and mint gum with maybe a hint of gunpowder, something so uniquely him. His lips pressed against yours with surprising gentleness and he cradled your face between his hands like you were the most precious glass figure he’d ever held. You fisted your hands in the lapels of his uniform jacket and sank into his touch. His fingers traced the skin of your cheeks, careful to not irritate the cuts you sustained days prior, and down to cup the back of your neck to draw you closer. A soft whimper escaped you at the sensation of his strong body pressing against yours.

You could easily hold your own in a fight, but the knowledge that this Adonis of a man was by your side through the hell of war was a comfort.

You needed to breathe but it wasn’t the painful reminder like it was when being tortured. His hands slid from your neck to cradling your jaw as you pulled away, settling back down on your heels.

“Don’t make me bury you,” he whispered, his forehead still pressed against yours.

You nodded, too dazed to say anything noteworthy. His thumbs stroked over your jaw and you blinked up at him.

“Was that a one time thing to shut me up or…”

“Fuckin’ insufferable, you are,” he grunted but leaned down to kiss you sweetly. There wasn’t much you could associate with Simon Riley and being sweet, but the tenderness in his touch made you want to hold him and keep him away from the world that had hurt him.

You felt his fingers brush against a nasty bruise on your jaw from a well aimed hit and saw his eyes darken.

“Did you question him already?”

“We’ve got a list of buyers that MI6 and Laswell are confirming right now,” he affirmed. Good. The mission was a success then.

“And how did you get this information?” you asked.

You met the gaze of the Ghost and didn’t flinch. He chuckled low and deep in his chest and tilted your chin up so he could see one of the cuts better.

“I did everything he did to you,” he said fiercely. "But I made sure it was permanent."

You moved your hand up to tangle with the short hair at the base of his neck and pressed your lips against his. Pulling back so just a small gap separated you, you murmured out a single sentence.

"I trusted you would."

[reality-detective]

This is the Red Alert You Can’t Ignore: Iran’s Military on U.S. Soil, Deep State Chaos, and the Elite’s Plot to Destroy America from Within!

The moment of truth is here. The battle for America’s soul is no longer in the shadows. The Deep State is waging war on our own soil, and the global elite are covering it up. Foreign forces are already inside our borders, preparing to strike.

We are on the brink of civil war. This isn't a drill. The Deep State, desperate to save their crumbling empire, has unleashed foreign troops to sow chaos. Enemy soldiers have infiltrated our country. Their targets: our key states, our critical infrastructure, and YOU.

Foreign Forces in Our Cities – Military Operations Escalate

The military is actively engaging on U.S. soil, but it’s not just our forces. Foreign soldiers are here, right now, waiting to tear America apart from the inside. California, Texas, Florida—they’ve been infiltrated by globalist-backed mercenaries disguised as South American gangs. These aren’t street criminals; they’re soldiers in the Deep State’s war against the American people.

Iranian troops have been sighted in the western U.S.—yes, actual Iranian military units, placed here by the Deep State to bring America to its knees when the time comes. The elites have sold us out—politicians and globalist operatives are working with these foreign forces to trigger America’s collapse.

Infrastructure is the target. Power grids, water supplies, and transportation hubs are all vulnerable, and the plan is clear: shut America down from within. When the lights go out, panic will explode, and the chaos will only grow. This is how they intend to bring America to its knees—through engineered collapse, martial law, and total domination.

The Deep State’s Master Plan: Civil War and Chaos

This plot has been years in the making. Every crisis, every election, every war was designed to bring us to this breaking point. But now, the Deep State is pulling the trigger on their final operation: a staged civil war. The military buildup in states like Texas, Florida, and California is not just for civil unrest; it’s a preparation for war against domestic and foreign enemies working for the Deep State.

Their endgame? Unleash chaos, call in foreign troops to “restore order,” and seize control. This is about more than power—it’s about absolute domination. They want you to own nothing, control nothing, and obey everything.

The Satanic Cabal: The Elite Families Want You Dead

Behind this operation are satanic monsters—the Rothschilds, Rockefellers, and their elite cronies who have been profiting from war, famine, and suffering for generations. These aren’t just businessmen. They are child traffickers, blood-drinkers, and war profiteers. The exposure of their networks is happening NOW.

Child trafficking, satanic rituals, organ harvesting—all of it is coming to light. The military is poised to blow their operations wide open, and they know their time is up.

The Quantum Financial System (QFS): Their Greatest Fear

The elite’s worst nightmare is the Global Currency Reset (GCR) and Quantum Financial System (QFS). Once it’s activated, the entire corrupt financial structure they’ve built crumbles. This is why they’re desperate to cause chaos and civil war. They need to stop the QFS from liberating humanity from their debt slavery system.

The storm is coming. The Deep State is moving fast, but we are faster. Prepare now. Stock up, stay alert, and get ready for the fight of your life.

I have been seeing this 👆 more and more...

The Storm Is Approaching 🤔

[justbeingnamaste]

Michael Yon is a former Special Forces operator – Green Beret – and one of the world’s most accomplished war correspondents. Right now, he is at the Darien Gap in Panama – a hub for human trafficking and illegal immigration. This is where migrants are put on buses to take them further on the journey where the destination is the U.S. southern border.

The Darien Gap camp is a transit point for migrants coming from all corners of the world. It is largely managed by the International Organization for Migration (IOM) – a United Nations agency that promotes and facilitates migration from developing countries and China to the West.

WEAPONIZED MIGRATION

“This is weaponized migration,” Michael Yon tells The Florida Standard. “Weaponized migration is being used to change the U.S. demographic, and it’s going on in many parts of the world. It’s clearly going to destroy Europe and the United States,”

[spider-mand]

So, common misconception (both in fandom and in-universe) about Spider-Man/Peter Parker is that he's naive.

Spidey's young for a hero, he's a wise cracker with a no-kill policy, he's a ray of sunshine - he must just not know, right? He grabs purse-snatchers, he never sees the really evil crimes like human trafficking and stuff. If he knew how evil and horrible humans could really be, surely he'd be a depressed nihilistic bastard like me.

Except he does know. Spider-Man has seen and dealt with those horrible crimes, the ones the tourists and newspapers don't see. In the Marvel universe, NYC is a hub of mutant/alien/monster/interdimensional activity - of course he's seen the worst of the worst, been to literal hell, all while he carries the weight of everyone he's failed and everything he's lost.

Spider-Man is not naive, he's optimistic.

That's one of his superpowers. He knows exactly how bad humans can be, and he believes in them anyway.

And 95% of the time, he's correct. He's not blind to the fact that irredeemable evil exists, he's just aware of the fact that most of humanity is not that. Messy and complicated, sure -- but not evil.

So when he does face actual evil, he's not a naive, toothless, "we can all be friends, even war criminals!" Steven Universe hero -- he's an angry, stubborn as shit "If I give up, despair wins, and I'll be damned if I let you win" weaponized sunshine hero.

...he's also hilarious and I love him.

[diejager]

Chapter 4

Cw: blood, death, canon typical violence, guns, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 3.6k

Series masterlist

Previous

Finland was a beautiful country, with a wide expanse of snowy plains and forest that covered the frozen earth. Green pines were tipped in gleaming snow, shiny and holy in a way that brought out awe and astonishment instead of anxiety from the mission. For a pretty country, the land was bathed in blood, old and new, both Finnish and Russian. 

Standing on the border of Finland and Russia was a compound, one built by shady funds and shadier reasons that the CIA decided to send Task Force 141 to shut down. The images from drones showed that it tainted the snow black and grey, a mark on the land people wanted gone. It was your target. 

Price gathered you around the table for the mission's debriefing, standing at the head of it, he had pictures displayed on the table, and physical notes about the mission and Laswell dealt with the extra explanations, sliding files to the screen. A Russian compound from what Laswell's intel told you, hidden under the thick, forested area of the border with a skeleton crew of around twenty ultranationalists.

The CIA had mentioned that their initial assumptions of the ongoings were human trafficking or an information hub for terrorists and prisoners. Whether it was the first or the second, the secretive compound had to be detained.

"Our main objective is to gather information about the things happening behind those walls. It's an infiltration and intel gathering. We leave in 15.

With the dismissal, you all filed out of the room, boots sounding loudly as you made your way to your barrack and then armoury for the mission. Everyone would need to be ready, you'd have no air support or cover, and you'd all be on field.

Nikolai warned you about turbulence, the harsh wind of the Nordic countries was stronger than the British weather, but the ride was calming, interacting with your teammates on the three-hour flight. Jokes were passed around by Gaz and Soap, they were by far the goofiest of the bunch, though with a bit of insistence, Ghost shared a few of his dark humour. 

Humour wasn't something you'd relate Ghost to, the brooding mass of a man seemed so cold and distant to you, yet he cared about the team, and now you too. Price, however, had the worst dad jokes one could think of. Although his jokes were bad and as dark as Ghost's, you couldn't contain your cackle when you saw the disgusted expression on the three, younger men before you. 

"Approaching the landing site," Nikolai called out, his voice ringing out from the headset.

The carrier shook violently, and your stomach dropped along the plane, lowering to the cleared, paved ground near a village. It was a rocky landing, the landing wheels jerking upwards a few times before it stopped moving. You followed out behind Price and Roach once you were cleared by Nikolai, hearing the blades shutter and halt as your eyes adjusted to the white land. 

You were warned about snow blindness, staring at the beautiful sight through dark glasses, it made everything sombre, but you wouldn't risk it. By habit, your eyes scanned the area, watching for things that could bring to your team. When everything seemed fine, you faced the blurred figure that moved to your side. 

"First time 'ere?" Ghost asked, his voice gravelly from not using it much apart from the few jokes he told, they could be counted with both hands. 

"No, I've been here once, just nowhere this calm," you replied, watching Nik's back. 

He walked with long strides, casual and comfortable with the older-looking man standing farther from your group, weary with age. You lingered on the Russian, ready to act if the old man had dark intentions. They spoke, hands moving in small and wide gestures as they exchanged words. You were too far to catch a whisper of their discussion, but the smile that stretched on the man's lips told you it was going well. 

They shook hands and Nikolai called out, urging you to follow the Finnish. Edvard, the local that would host you during your stay, his cabin would act as your temporary safe house in the remote village. He was Nik's contact in the area, someone you couldn't trust to keep your location safe. Edvard had nothing to lose, an old man living alone on the outskirts of the village, and a family lost to Barkov’s tyranny.

The broken-down car burped and spewed exhaust with loud rumbles, it seemed as old - if not, older - than the driver itself. Your team of seven, four of which were burly men and three leaner but still cracked with layers of warm jackets, vests and gear, somehow fit. With little to no baggage, except a bag from each, four of you fit the car, it was tight but you made it work, Nikolai sat at the front and the two last - Soap and Gaz - were left out in the cold, in the pickup’s bed with the bags. It was a miracle the ford hadn’t dropped from the sheer, combined weight of its passengers. 

The hour-long ride was uncomfortable, being forced to lay over their laps to fit during a long and bumpy road promised a sore back, especially when you were staring up at your Lieutenant’s face. The warm brown hues that hazed back down through the tinted glasses made you flush, his gaze had always been intense, in and out of duty. None of your teammate’s stare compared to Ghost’s. The ride was silent, awkward to the point you’d hear a pin drop if Nikolai and Edvard weren’t talking - a rough mix of Finnish and Russian that none of you understood - and the boisterous chatter from the men outside. Talking helped get the mind off the cold air, gloves, hats and balaclava weren’t enough for the cold. Their chattering helped mince the uncomfortableness you felt, forced to stare continuously at the man who liked being unseen. 

You were out the second the engine was shut down, jumping from Ghost’s side as if their bodies burned you. You were grateful they hadn’t mentioned your little run, knowing it was unbearably confining. The cabin wasn’t much, but it had heat, food and warm water, it wasn’t decrepit looking nor was it run down. You shrugged your glasses once you stepped into the cabin, white light illuminated the open-concept place furnished with old things, the yellowed doors were mostly rooms and a bathroom. Two rooms to the left and two others to the right, one was Edvard’s and you’d have to share the rest and the available couch. 

“I’ll take the couch,” Ghost’s decision was quickly made. He preferred to sleep alone - if he even slept - and taking the couch let him have the whole view of the cabin. It never sat well with him to stay the night in new places, new was unknown, and unknown was dangerous. He might sleep an hour or two, but he’d be ready to move if anything happened. 

“Roach with Winter, Gaz with Soap, and Nikolai with me.”

Your team had foregone the pickup truck, it would’ve been easily seen and heard by the Russian’s guards and their surveillance around the forest. The trek through the forest was cold and quiet, you could see it a mile in, the compound stood out under the green pines with its white lights and the tall, grey walls. Your plan was to slip in through the back and take out the security system before Alpha and Bravo would go in. You and Gaz - team Echo - were tasked with taking down the two guards near the back entrance and from then, shut down the system and take out anyone on the way. 

“Team Echo in position, moving in, “ Gaz called, hand motioning you to take position and wait for his call to kill. One shot to the head, or a double tap to the chest. 

Your intel told you they had walked the same path every time, one man went left and the other, right, with a rotation every half hour. The last swap was five minutes ago, so you’d have around twenty-five minutes to complete your task. You followed the left man, watching through your night-vision goggle (NVG) his figure waddle between the trees. You moved quietly, approaching him with your handgun in both hands; you’d all agreed that it’d be a better option if you wanted to stay quiet, a muzzled handgun would echo less in an empty forest void of sound.

His steps were loud and careless, too used to being the only ones in the area, they covered yours and let you get closer to him. When you slid next to him, you shot out, side colliding with his back. He fell with a shout, eyes wide in shock as he reached for the rifle that fell a foot away from him. Before he could grasp it, you aimed for his head and fired, blood spraying from the wound as the exit hole oozed it. You searched his body, padding down his sides and hip until you found the keycard they used to leave and enter the facility.

You felt at ease, this was your field of work, killing was a better skill than healing in these moments, but being a field medic had its merit. Your hands were stable, your body moving by instinct - habits beaten in by your training - and your mind tuning the loud voices that swore at you. Everything felt colder, more numb when you were on duty, it was nearly calming to your mind, blocking out all noise when you were on the move - concentrate or you die.

“Gaz, what’s your status?” you called, standing from the body, sliding back into the dark.

“Good, meet me back,” he answered, and you could hear the snow crunch beneath his feet. 

You backtracked and flipped up your NVG, seeing him crouched behind a tree and nodded when you caught his eye. You showed him the keycard, both entering the clearing around the walls. The door clicked open when you scanned the keycard, it beeped before you pushed it open. You looked both sides, rifle aimed for anyone to turn the corner and walked in when you saw it was safe. The insides buzzed with a loud hum, booming enough to almost cover your shots, so you and Gaz would have to hastily make your way to the security room. 

You move in first, Gaz watching your back as you followed the instructions Laswell gave towards the security room, her plans were clear and simple: once inside, down the left hall and turn right at the corner, then turn right and up the stairs to the fourth floor, the target room was the last door on the floor with a bold Безопасность - security. You watched both ways before you turned right, and did again before turning and stalking to the stairs. The climb was quiet, no one had entered or walked the east wing and the stairs were vacant. It was a rapid climb to the fourth floor, where the only ultranationalist you saw was entering the security room. You turned to Gaz, nodding a silent message - one you’d conveyed many times before - and hastily made your way to the room’s door. 

You burst through the door, throwing a flash grenade into the room before you rushed in with Gaz behind you. You heard their screams - two distinct voices, both males - and shot them down when they blindly searched the tables, one for his gun and the other for his radio. You searched the whole room before radioing the others: “Security room clear. I’m watching the cams, Cap’n. The backdoor’s still open, you have less than ten minutes. “

“Copy, Alpha moving out,” Price answered. 

“Bravo out,” Ghost replied, he and Soap moved to meet up with Alpha Team. 

They would make their way up, clearing floor by floor while you and Gaz would search the fourth floor for mercenaries and information. It was quickly done, you swept the floor, going room to room with your rifles raised, watching Gaz’s back as he led. You assumed the floor was vacant since no one rushed in after the screams, giving you enough time to search the security room for stray files or anything Laswell would appreciate getting her hands on. 

“Floor one, clear.” They cleared the first floor, moving up to the second. 

There were four doors apart from the security room, two held bunks and were dirtied with stray clothes and other inconspicuous things. Disgusting, you’d be punished severely for having such messy barracks and rooms, laps around the base of extra training time, the Ultranationalists had no organization in this base - different from others you’ve seen. The third room was an archive of some sort, rows and rows of file boxes, all unlocked. They were old files, you swiped through each box and saw the dates marked on the manila folders. Some were dated from before the 21st century, the oldest from 1989 and the most recent from a month ago. There were too many to take, but Laswell told you to search for a computer and save whatever was on the drive.  

The last door led to a briefing room, albeit small, with a computer placed on the table. This was what you were tasked to find, you skimmed the side, searching for the disk or drive that held the information you needed. 

“Floor two, clear.” It had been quiet on their side, they met enemies on the way.

While you were preoccupied with the laptop, Gaz looked over the folders spread on the table, flipping pages and reading words he didn’t understand. Russian, they were written in Russian and none of you were able to read, nor speak it. Sure, you understood, but only enough to know the basics. Your finger nudged the small edge of a disk, the round corners of the plastic rectangle. You pushed it lightly and it slid out, grabbing the protruding cartridge and placing it in the pocket of your black jacket, under your vest. 

“Found the drive.”

“And I got the files, seems important enough.”

It was radio silence for a while, you waited for the other teams’ reply before moving down, watching the room’s door for gunmen. You locked eyes with Gaz, asking him whether you should move or wait for them. Although both sergeants, you trusted his experience in a field he was thrust into longer than you, he had the rank years before a greenie like you. If he told you to wait, you’d wait; if he wants to move out, you’d follow him out. 

“Floor three, clear-“ the radio cracked, Soap growled into his mic, a deep, throaty sound akin to Ghost’s roars. “We’re moving up.” The gravely tone told you all you had to know, he and Ghost met someone on their floor. 

From your position, you watched the door open and Price popped his head in, nodding his head towards Gaz - folder in his hand - and you - disc secured in your vest. With Price’s order for evac, you all followed him out, face snugly hidden under your black balaclava and thick clothes in the cold winter of Finland’s night. 

Price called Laswell once you confirmed you were safely back to Edvard’s cabin, jumping into a secure line and retelling your mission with the promise of giving her the disc and folder once you landed on British ground, back on familiar land with cloudy days and rainy evenings. While the colder air was refreshing, a sight you last saw years back, nothing felt better than familiar ground, the safety and comfort your barack brought or the thrill and amusement the pub you went to last week left you with, watching your team getting wasted on alcohol to a successful mission. 

You’d wait out the night, trading posts for night watch with the others, your team’s paranoia of being followed and never knowing if the enemy had called for backup after you reached the security room. So many times bad luck struck you, fate dealing you a bad hand in your endeavours. Ghost would go first, being the most paranoid out of everyone - for good reasons, he’d been betrayed too many times to count, and he knew the sharp edge of a knife better than anyone else - then you’d take his place, let him rest while he could, after you, Soap, Gaz, Roach and Price, the Captain would be able to wake everyone up in the early morning. 

You tried sleeping, rolling from one side to the other, one leg knocking the other while your mind stormed with wild thoughts and wandering words. Your eyes closed, ears muffled with the soft cover of your pillow, but sleep evaded you, chased away from stray thoughts. The voices, and the screaming pain from memories long gone haunted you when you weren’t on field, the drowned-out sounds of gunfire and grenades submerged the memories. Tonight, however, the cries were louder, more painful and desperate than they were yesterday or the day before, twisted and turning wouldn’t do you any good, nor would it do Roach any good, who slept a few feet away from you. 

So you left your bed, what harm would it bring if you took your post early, you couldn’t sleep and wouldn’t be able to either. Sound sleep had escaped your grasp the moment you touched Finland. Outside the door, you caught Ghost staring back at you, alerted by the sound and movement of your exit. You gazed back at him, silent as he was with his beautiful, brown eyes. 

“Mind if I join you?” you tentatively asked, voice low to not startle the others. You stopped on the other side of the couch, waiting for his reply. You were hyper-fixed on his eyes.

While your relationship with him had a bumpy start, you admired him, you looked up to the beast he was: solemn and strong-willed. He moved forward without looking back, seeing things until the end without an ounce of hesitation in his step, of fear or trepidation on his face - his warm eyes - and he never stooped low, head held high and powerful. His huge figure with broad shoulders and thick arms were distracting at times, when you saw him walk down the hall at the base, cloaked in black and a simple, skull-painted balaclava over his face than his masked one. 

He was your lieutenant, your second in command and you trusted him with your life as he did with you, months of working side by side had strengthened the link between you. From strangers to colleges to brothers in arms. You learned to read the smallest signs on him, from non-verbal, tensing shoulders to the dilated joy in his eyes when you watched the others stumble drunkenly. 

You moved when he nodded slightly, eyes watching you sit beside him before returning to gazing out the windows. Join him, you did, silently sharing this moment with Ghost, rare moments of calmness (even with the noise in your head). You sat in silence, a few calming minutes of respite, you traced the few visible stars from the inside of the dark cabin. The countryside had its perks, especially at night, where only darkness clouded the skies, this one was painted with stars, some bright, some dim. It was a sight for sore eyes for city dwellers like you, used to the grey skyline and bright skyscrapers that loomed over the houses and flats in the UK. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” Ghost’s voice was mellow, having a slight rasp from the small use of his voice. It was deep and soothing to your ear, it captured your attention and kept it on him. His question wouldn’t be left unanswered. 

You hummed, bobbing your head as you peered at him from the corner of your eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of the dark lashes fluttering when he blinked. His face was turned towards you, his pretty eyes looking at you with calmness in them. Perhaps he knew your answer wasn’t satisfactory for him, or perhaps he knew you hid something from him. Something weighed on his mind, you could tell by his continuous staring. You wouldn’t urge him to ask the question that lingered on his tongue, not unless he felt comfortable to ask it. You learned quickly that he was as mentally guarded as he was physically, building a thick and high wall around himself, it rarely cracked but it did.

You tethered on the limit of his comfort, the nearness between you was as close as you could get to him without having him tense, however, physical touch was a negative. You did once touch him and he flinched, muscle rippling and freezing at your cool gloves, you hadn’t touched him since then. You knew the fear of being touched, you’ve been once before, though you worked it off slightly. You still jumped, but you wouldn’t panic. 

“Somethin’ bothering you?” he finally asked, pushing out the words after a tense moment in his body.

“Not really,” you shook your head, returning his stare. “Just feeling excited about returning home. It feels safer, no?”

This time he hummed, a distracting sound that rumbled out of his throat. You loved the sound of his voice, albeit rare for him to speak more than a few lines here and there, you cherished the moments he did. You could sit here, with him, gazing into each other’s eyes, admiring him for everything he was. Respect and loyalty were given to him, for his experience and his trauma. You knew the way everyone looked at him, fear from outsiders and warmth from the Task Force, they were your family as you were theirs.

“You won’t mind if I stay here ‘till I take over, L.T.?”

Next

Tag list (reply here if you want to be tagged): @lauraliisa @iirosietumbles @thefairybird @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @tayaisback @deadpoetsandhoney @ghost-reine @raidenmylove @sollucifer @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @mandythemint @static-knight @suzuyamitsuki @rk111 @shuttlelauncher81 @discowizard88 @v1naco @imjustabebeh2003 @tbrfic @hotchlover @mstosi @beakami @iirosietumbles @ghostindeath @phantumsimp @embers-of-alluring @cumbermovels

[fluentmoviequoter]

Just Another Broken Heart

Requested Here!

Pairing: Javier Esposito x fem!cop!reader

Summary: After Javi broke your heart, you became an undercover officer. Years later, you run into him after a bad day at work.

Warnings: discussion of human trafficking and murder (case), reader is assaulted by another officer, depiction of injuries, angst to fluff/comfort

Word Count: 2.4k+ words

A/N: Every gif of Javi is him and Ryan. If that doesn't speak to how amazing their bromance is, I don't know what does.

Three Years Ago

Javi doesn’t greet you as he enters your apartment. As you close the door behind him, you begin racking your brain for what may be bothering him. He’s usually flirty, touchy, and loving even after a terrible day, he tends to walk straight into your arms. Yet, here you are, watching him pace by your couch without a glance in your direction.

“Javi,” you begin.

“I can’t do this,” he interrupts. Before you can ask what this is, he explains, “We’re done.”

“Javi,” you repeat, your eyes widening as you step toward him. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about this relationship, about us!” he exclaims, pointing between the two of you. “Look, I tried, you tried, but we were never going to work together. You have to see that, too.”

“No, I don’t, Javier. Did I do something?”

“It’s not you, trust me, it’s not you.”

“Then why are you breaking up with me?” Your voice is strained as you try to keep yourself from breaking down in front of him, but he doesn’t even seem to notice.

Javi looks at you before he decides to tell you the truth. His voice is low as he admits, “Because I don’t think I can love you.”

You blink as tears build in your eyes, a pressure you can’t mistake. If Javi can’t love you, doesn’t want to try, whatever drove him to this point, then he doesn’t deserve to see you cry over him.

“Get out,” you demand.

He raises a hand toward you, but you point toward the door and repeat yourself. As he whispers an apology and closes the door, you lower to the edge of yourself before the first sob shakes your body, and you clasp your hands over your mouth so your pain is silenced.

The pain of heartbreak is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, and you know that you can’t walk into the precinct on Monday morning knowing that you may be assigned to work with Javi. Luckily, there’s one thing you never got the chance to tell Javi.

“I want the job,” you whisper through your cries as you text the undercover detective who offered you a position. “I need to be someone else.”

Present Day

“Ryan, Esposito!” Beckett yells, replacing the receiver of her desk phone to its cradle. “We’ve got a DB. Reported anonymously fifteen minutes ago.”

“Finally!” Castle exclaims. “Some action.”

“Dead bodies are the opposite of action,” Javi quips. “They’re dead.”

Castle turns toward Javi and drops his voice to ask, “Or are they?”

“No more zombie or vampire theories!” Beckett interjects. “You’ve still got a week.”

“I told you not to bet against her in darts,” Ryan reminds Castle.

“What’ve we got, Beckett?” Javi asks as they approach the scene.

“Apparently this building is a hub for homeless, prostitution, illegal drugs… you name it. DB is on the second floor but with that many people in there, it’s guaranteed that our crime scene is contaminated.”

Javi nods as they join the growing crowd of law enforcement officers at the rear entrance of the abandoned building. He tosses Castle’s vest to him before securing his own over his shirt. On Beckett’s count, he and the twenty officers assisting them enter the building and begin yelling commands. Javi quickly realizes that Beckett was correct; there are more civilians inside than police officers.

“Espo!” Ryan yells. “We got something!”

Javi leaves the patrol officers to gather the squatters as witnesses as he follows Ryan’s voice to the bloody scene.

“Shut your mouth,” Daniel says, pointing directly at you. “I don’t want to hear another sound from you unless I tell you to make it, understood?”

You stare into his eyes, hating everything about the human trafficker standing before you. Regardless of your personal feelings, you have a job to do, and you nod once. You’ve been undercover for nearly two months, getting deeper and deeper into the ring. Daniel is just a runner, he brings people in from other places, taking them across borders and through different states before dumping them in disgusting places like this, where they wait to be bought. It’s sickening, but every moment you are here is another moment of hope for the people sitting around you.

“Ow,” a woman beside you hisses quietly.

You glance toward her and notice her wrists are red and raw. Her left hand has blood running down it, and you turn toward her. Extending your hand, you smile and hope that she’ll trust you enough to let you help. She shakes her head and looks down at her lap.

“I’ve got bandages,” you whisper. “Please let me help. It could get infected.”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth as she twists and lays her hands in yours. You flip her wrists carefully and can see that she’s got a deep rope burn.

“Did he do this?” you ask, jutting your chin toward Daniel.

“Told me I couldn’t move,” she replies. She has an accent, but her English isn’t as broken as some of the other women you’ve met here.

“Is this all that’s hurt?”

She nods, and you pull a small pouch from your pocket. After you place antibiotic ointment on the open scrape, you secure a bandage around the worst of it. Dan looks around the crowd of seated, scared women, and you shift your hips to sit on the first aid pouch.

“NYPD!” someone yells downstairs.

Dan shoves his co-conspirators toward an internal door while the women closest to you cower. You, however, stare at the doorway and wonder why the building is being raided. It’s too early to be for Dan, but your captain would have pulled you before anything else happened. Before you can think of a third option, the door opens and two officers step inside with their guns raised.

“Shut up!” one of them yells when several of the women shriek.

“Wait,” you call. “I’m NYPD, undercover!”

“Sure,” the other cop scoffs. “Everybody up and against the back wall.”

You stand but don’t join the women as they move quickly to follow his commands.

“You’re scaring them,” you say. “They’re victims here, you need to find the three men who just-“

“You need to get against the wall,” the first cop interrupts.

“I’m NYPD, badge number-“

You are cut off when he grabs your wrist and shoves you against the door. The wood is rough against your face, and when you push back against him, he shoves his knee into your right hamstring and increases his pressure, holding your arm painfully behind your back.

“I’m complying, okay?” you try, relaxing your muscles. “Please just listen to me so you can get them help.”

“Why would I listen to you?” he asks with a chuckle. His knee digs further into your leg as he leans forward. “You’re just another hooker.”

His partner laughs, and when you say your captain’s name, he releases your arm. You release a breath, but he brings his hand to the back of your head and knocks your face against the door again.

“Stop resisting,” he demands, putting on a show for the body cam.

You, however, fall silent and do just that. He won’t listen, you’re already hurt, and the only thing that matters now is the women beside you. You became an undercover officer because your real life didn’t matter, and it still doesn’t.

After an uncomfortable ride in a police car, you are shoved into an interrogation room, secured to the table with handcuffs that are far too tight and left. You lay the less painful side of your face on the edge of the table and allow yourself to lose track of time. Despite that allowance, your body clock knows that it has been hours since you moved, and as the pain in your head and leg begins spreading, you consider yelling just for someone to remember you’re here.

“I thought we interviewed everyone,” Javi says as he returns to the bullpen.

“We did,” Ryan replies.

“Interview 6 is occupied. One of the patrol unis left an arrest in there as a witness.”

Beckett nods as she looks at a file. “She’s been in there for nearly three hours. What happened?”

Javi shrugs but turns and collects a few bottles of water and a granola bar from his desk. Three hours is too long to wait in an interview room, so he has an apology to make. He knocks on the door and then opens it before he drops everything he carried in.

You look up when someone knocks but stop suddenly when you grow dizzy. The door opens, and your eyes widen. He must have hit your head harder than you thought if you’re hallucinating your ex-boyfriend. You drop your head again before groaning in pain.

“Hey, hey,” he repeats, dropping what he’s carrying and rushing to your side.

You open your eyes again and see him kneeling beside you. His hands are gentle on your face as he tilts your head toward him, his eyes searching your body.

“No,” you murmur, trying to pull yourself back from him.

The handcuffs stop you and you grunt when the metal digs into your skin. Javi pulls a key from his belt and releases your hands. You try to pull your arms around you, but Javi catches your elbows to look at your wrists.

“Let me help,” he implores, his thumbs rubbing kind circles on the back of your arm.

You shake your head, but when you lean back against the chair, you realize that you are in more pain than you thought. Reluctantly, you allow Javi to take your arms again.

“Please don’t tell me you’re charging me with murder,” you mumble as he drops his hands toward your legs.

“No, you’re free to go,” he replies. “Right after I take you to get checked out.”

Javi stands and extends his hands to help you up. When you place weight on your right leg, your hamstring flares in burning pain. You shift onto your left leg, and Javi watches your every move and breath closely.

“Stay with me,” Javi says before he lifts you into his arms and steps over the threshold.

“Like before?” you ask.

Javi replies, but you don’t hear him as he runs through the station to find a medic.

“Come on,” you urge your numbed leg. “Or not,” you sigh in defeat as you lean against the couch.

You were cleared to go home, but the treatment you received at the hospital left you tired and numb. Better than tired and in excruciating pain, you think. Luckily, Beckett offered to give you a ride so you didn’t have to spend another moment with Javi. Someone knocks on the door before you can think too long about Javi and his caring actions earlier today.

“Who is it?” you yell.

“Can you get up?” You roll your eyes at Javi’s question, which he takes as a no because he asks, “Spare key out here?”

“It’s New York,” you reply. “Of course not.”

“Then how am I supposed to get in?”

“You’re not.”

Javi doesn’t reply, and you watch the door, wondering if he left.

“Javi?” you call after a moment.

“Yeah?��� he replies.

“Do you- do you still have the key I gave you before?”

“I do.”

“It’s the same lock.”

You hear his key slide into the lock, and your mind decides to focus on why he kept the key all this time rather than his being here. He locks the door behind him and sets several bags on your kitchen counter.

“What are you doing here?” you ask quietly.

“I wanted to let you know that the killer was one of the women with you. She thought he was one of the traffickers. But, mostly, I came to check on you,” he answers, walking toward you. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired, numb, angry…” you trail off before ending with a shrug.

“Angry?” Javi asks with a knowing smile. “At me?”

“Surprisingly, no. The cop who shoved me into a door and nearly severed my hamstring on his power trip.”

“He got fired,” Javi says. “Not that it changes anything.”

You furrow your brows at that news. You didn’t press charges or complain yet and didn’t even have time to let your captain know that you had unceremoniously been pulled from your UC operation.

“I reported him,” Javi explains. “Loudly.”

“Why?”

“He hurt you.”

You nod and murmur, “So did you.”

Javi exhales as he sits beside you. “Tell me to leave again and I will,” he offers. “But if you want to talk, I’m here for that too.”

“I always thought that if I saw you again, I’d just keep walking, not say anything.”

Javi doesn’t interrupt, but his eyes remain steady on your face as you look down at the pillow in your lap.

“When you broke up with me… that was the worst pain I’ve ever been in. I didn’t have a reason to keep fighting for anything, so I become a UC. I figured if I was so easily replaceable as a person, a girlfriend, I might as well get a job where I could be easily replaced too. It’s been brutal, more injuries than I can count. Today wasn’t the first time I’ve been hurt doing this.”

“You’re not replaceable,” Javi says after you finish. You shake your head, and he lays his hand on your forearm above the bandages. “I’m sorry for putting you in that position, but I never should have let you feel like you could be replaced. What I said that night…”

“That you didn’t love me?”

“That’s not what I said. I said I didn’t think I could love you. I did love you, so much that it scared me. But it wasn’t the love I thought you needed or deserved. Mi amor, I thought you needed to replace me. You needed someone better.”

“I wanted you,” you argue, turning toward Javi.

He sees the tears in your eyes glint in the light and slowly raises his hands to cup your cheeks. You shake your head, but he moves closer as his thumbs brush under your lashes.

“Let me be what you need, even if it’s just for tonight,” he whispers.

You lick your lips, then lean against him. His arm wraps gently around you, and you can feel the mental and physical strain, the pain, melt away at his touch.

“Javi,” you whisper after several minutes. He hums, and you raise your head to ask, “Just for tonight?”

“Not my decision, corazón.”

“Will you come back? For good?”

Javi fails to hide his growing smile as he replies, “For you? Por supuesto.”

You tilt your chin up and smile before you request, “Kiss me?”

“My two favorite words,” Javi cheers.

“But don’t touch the right side of my face.”

“Whatever you want, señorita.”

[aidaughter]

one time i got on the wrong train home because it was at the exact same time and just a platform away from my train and i told the ticket man and he was like “well im not gonna charge you for the ticket you dont have but i cant stop or turn back the train so youll have to get off at the next stop which is also the last” and i was like okay fair and then i found out that next and final stop was like a human trafficking hub town and the next train from there to home was in like 8 hours

[beardedmrbean]

Four members of the UK's richest family are on trial in Switzerland amid allegations they spent more money caring for their dog than their servants.

The Hinduja family, worth an estimated £37bn ($47bn), is accused of exploitation and human trafficking.

The family own a villa in Geneva’s wealthy neighbourhood of Cologny, and the charges against them all relate to their practice of importing servants from India to look after their children and household.

It’s alleged that Prakash and Kamal Hinduja, together with their son Ajay and his wife Namrata, confiscated staff passports, paid them as little as $8 (£7) for 18-hour days, and allowed them little freedom to leave the house.

Although a financial settlement over exploitation was reached last week, the Hindujas remain on trial for trafficking, which is a serious criminal offence in Switzerland. They deny the charges.

This week in court, one of Geneva’s most famous prosecutors, Yves Bertossa, compared the almost $10,000 a year he claimed the family had spent on their dog, to the daily amount they were allegedly paying their servants.

The Hinduja family's lawyers did not specifically deny the allegations of low wages, but said they must be viewed in context - noting that the staff were also receiving accommodation and food.

The charge of long hours was also disputed, with one defence lawyer arguing that watching a film with the Hinduja children could not really be classed as work.

Some former servants testified for the Hindujas, describing them as a friendly family who treated their servants with dignity.

But the allegations that servants’ passports were confiscated, and that they could not even leave the house without permission, are serious, because they could be judged as human trafficking.

Mr Bertossa is calling for prison terms, and millions of dollars in compensation as well as legal fees.

Dark side of Geneva

It is not the first time that Geneva, a hub for international organisations as well as the world’s wealthy, has been in the spotlight over the alleged mistreatment of servants.

In 2008, Hannibal Gaddafi, son of Libya’s former dictator Muammar Gaddafi, was arrested in his five star Geneva hotel by police acting on information that he and his wife had been beating their servants, including with a coat hanger. The case was later dropped.

But it caused a huge diplomatic row between Switzerland and Libya, with two Swiss citizens arrested in Tripoli as a retaliatory measure.

Just last year, four domestic workers from the Philippines launched a case against one of Geneva’s diplomatic missions to the United Nations, claiming they had not been paid for years.

The Hinduja's ongoing, high profile case will draw attention, once again, to the darker, uglier side of the city that likes to call itself "the city of peace".

[banned-for-horny]

so i'd never tried any pregnancy content at the orphanage because the LIs aren't programmed for it yet and i didn't wanna have a rando's baby, but i tried it just for funsies and!! i didn't know you sometimes get random lore when going in the youth ward!! my favorites being: when you try to remember where your old room as a little kid was, but you can't remember. like your mind is totally blank. and you wonder how many orphans there actually are and where they're all coming from. and one where you see an older orphan who's getting moved out of the youth ward comforting their crying friend, and it reminds you of you and robin at that age. and that robin was friends with older kids who all left one by one, and you never saw them again. and you realize you're probably the only friend robin has left.

Yeah that and the text about not being able to remember your own childhood clearly and how you were never left unaccompanied wherever you went. It's suspicious ain't it?

I wonder if the orphanage is moreso a hub for the human trafficking business. there's other towns outside of this place and you can save one from the docks and one trapped in a basement (?) so who knows.

[lobotomy-lady]

I mean in the sense that criminalizing it will only make it more harmful since there won't be regulations anymore

there is no way to effectively regulate prostitution into being less harmful & countries that have legalized & regulated it have wound up being massive hubs of human trafficking

[collapsedsquid]

This is the Golden Triangle Special Economic Zone, a vast development project founded by a Chinese businessman named Zhao Wei. Outwardly it resembles a midsize Chinese city; it even has an airport, with a soaring terminal that Zhao hopes will eventually welcome international flights. In interviews and on Chinese social media, he’s said one of his top priorities is to help the Lao people, who are among the poorest in Southeast Asia, “and to provide a bigger contribution to the country’s economic and social development.” Behind the glassy facades, however, more is going on. The GTSEZ operates as a self-governed enclave, and for the better part of a decade investigators have warned that it’s a hub for criminal activity of every description—a legal no-man’s land. At first, according to the US Department of the Treasury and other agencies that have examined the zone, one of its main businesses was drug trafficking, particularly of methamphetamines. They’re often mixed with caffeine to create cheap pills called yaba or else refined into pricier crystal meth and exported to wealthy countries. More recently, the GTSEZ has diversified into hosting “scam centers,” where teams of operators, many of them victims of human trafficking, persuade online marks to move their savings into fraudulent crypto-trading schemes. The United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime and other agencies have identified the GTSEZ as a nexus of money laundering as well, connecting criminal groups from Taiwan to Myanmar that use crypto, underground casinos and shadow banking to move ill-gotten gains. “It’s a multifunctional criminal enterprise,” says Richard Horsey, a senior adviser to the International Crisis Group who has studied the zone. “The GTSEZ business model is to provide the infrastructure. They create that ecosystem so that criminal businesses can come in, lease the premises they need, hire the armed security they need and get whatever they want.” [...] For now, Zhao is likely to continue running an unprecedented entrepreneurial experiment. Organized-crime groups have long sought to influence and profit from how cities are run. In a few exceptional cases, such as Naples in the heyday of the Camorra and the alliance in New York between Tammany Hall and the Mafia, they’ve managed to insert themselves into government, at least for a time. But the allegations against Zhao describe a much more ambitious endeavor: to create a vertically integrated paradise for criminal activity, from scratch. And according to investigators, it’s paying off.

Managed to escape the overregulation of Prospera that makes you sign a several thoussand page contract when you enter.

[reality-detective]

The Vatican: Human Trafficking Hub

The Vatican Underground- Cleared

The Dulce Base- Underground Cleared

The Area 51 Underground Base- Cleared

Orion Group ❌ (Defeated)

Ciakharr Group ❌ (Defeated)

Killy Tokurt Group ❌ (Defeated)

These are the three main factions responsible for the

The CIA is connected to the Killy Tokurt Ops. They are the one who specialize in soul scalping. This is how our government leaders were replaced. Removing the light body & soul and replacing it with a physical vessel void of any connection to source.

Sherry Shriner covered this in many videos/audios. Megan Rose spoke about this in one of her books. Corey Goode is also another source who spoke on the caste system of the Ciakharr who are the top elite in their race.

Remember when I mentioned that people were not ready once they found out who have been eating the children? Guess what was the capitol for the "Child Sex Trafficking" breeding hub?

The Vatican.

Do you remember the story or report that came out in July of 2019 where thousands of bones was unearthed in two ossuaries discovered in the Vatican City, as part of an ongoing search for clues into the disappearance of a 15-year-old girl more than three decades ago in 1983?

Do you remember the mass grave full of baby bones found along the shores of Israel's Mediterranean coast, in the ancient seaport of Ashkelon in 2014?

Do you remember An Indigenous group said the remains of as many as 751 people, mainly children, had been found in unmarked graves on the site of a former boarding school in Saskatchewan?

As a matter of fact that was a 2,300 page document that leaked that verified Pope Francis’ cover up of a Vatican Pedophile Ring. Did you know 20 Chilean Priests who went public on their connection to that very same Pedophile Ring, were killed in a plane crash right after their meeting with Pope Francis?

Back on July 20 2014 the International Common Law Court of Justice in Brussels found defendants Pope Francis Bergoglio, Catholic Jesuit Superior General Adolfo Pachon and Archbishop of Canterbury Justin Welby guilty of rape, torture, murder and the trafficking of children. (Nothing Is Happening?)

I highly doubt it.

Two adolescent women told the ICLCJ Court that Pope Francis raped them while participating in child sacrifices during the Springs of 2009 and 2010 in rural Holland and Belgium. According to a former employee of the Curia in Rome, rapes and murders of children also took place at the Carnarvon Castle in Wales and an undisclosed French Chateau.

A Prosecutor introduced notarized affidavits by eight others claiming to witness these same crimes organized by the Vatican. Another witness testified that they were present during meetings with the then Argentine priest and Bishop Francis and the military Junta during Argentine’s 1970′s Dirty War.

According to the witness, Francis helped traffic 30,000 children of missing political prisoners into the Vatican Pedophile Ring.

Do you know why this has taken so long? If you knew how vast these underground tunnels are you would understand why certain EOs signed by D. Trump kept getting extensions.

The Military at some point will disclose the battles that went underground.

The weapons used.

The strategies used.

The entries/exits used.

The medical technology used.

The portals/gateways that were used.

You got a glimpse of this during the fight that went on underground with the Phil Schneider lectures that still can be found on YouTube about the Dulce extraterrestrial confrontation that resulted in lives being lost and him being scarred from it.

People are only looking at the human aspect of this process. They are not looking at this as governments officials serving a unknown species that want world dominion who is an entire different secret government whose base are in these DUMBS-(Deep Underground Military Bases) who control all of our 3 letter agencies who are middlemen/conduits who these covert species use to control Washington. 🤔

Julian Assange

[coochiequeens]

If your so desperate for a baby you arrange for one to be born in a country where surrogacy is illegal, you don't have the best interests of the children in mind and should question why you want a baby so eagerly in the first place.

This new case making headlines in Cambodia demonstrates that, despite the 2016 ban, surrogacy continues to thrive in this impoverished Southeast Asian nation through underground networks.

By Antoine d’Abbundo January 2nd, 2025 

Although surrogacy has been banned in Cambodia since 2016, the lucrative business of “baby factories” persists in this poor Southeast Asian country. Evidence of this is the recent dismantling of a network that led to the arrest of 24 foreign women—20 Filipinos and 4 Vietnamese—recruited to serve as surrogate mothers for foreign clients.

This trafficking operation was uncovered during a police raid in late September at a villa in the Prek Anchanh commune, Kandal province, south of the capital Phnom Penh, where the women were housed. Eleven of them, who were not yet pregnant, were immediately deported to their home countries. The other 13—three of whom had already given birth—were sentenced in late November to four years in prison, two of which were suspended under Cambodian laws that penalize human trafficking.

Particularly attractive prices

Pardoned by a decree from King Norodom Sihamoni, the 13 Filipinos returned to their country December 29 without any clarity on the fate of the children already born or yet to be born. “If we conclude that they are unable to care for the children, then the babies could temporarily become wards of the state, and we must consider options such as adoption,” explained Nicholas Felix Ty, Philippine Undersecretary of Justice.

The traffickers, however, remain at large. According to Cambodian authorities, the agency responsible for the recruitment is based in Thailand and primarily caters to Chinese clients, driven by the relaxation of the one-child policy, as well as Australian and American clients. These childless couples are drawn by the highly competitive prices: in the United States, surrogacy costs can exceed $100,000, while hiring a surrogate in Cambodia is reportedly ten times cheaper.

Laos: The new surrogacy haven

This explains why, despite the 2016 ban, Cambodia remained a hub for this trade, as evidenced by several high-profile cases in recent years.

In 2017, an Australian nurse and her two Cambodian accomplices were sentenced to one and a half years in prison for running an illegal clinic. The following year, Cambodian police announced the dismantling of a trafficking ring in Phnom Penh involving 33 surrogate mothers. These women were eventually released on the condition that they agreed to keep their babies. In 2019, authorities again reported the release of 11 women under the same promise not to sell their children.

“The surrogacy market is expanding in Asia, as it is in all countries where many women live below the poverty line,” lamented a representative of CoRP, a feminist collective advocating for the global abolition of surrogacy, to La Croix. This is particularly true in Laos, Cambodia's even poorer neighbor, which is emerging as the new surrogacy haven. There, open clinics boldly advertise “substitute maternity packages at the lowest prices” online with slogans like, “Let us help you achieve your dream of having a child.”

[erwinrer]

Mongolia's prostitution zones, where women trade sex for fuel in sub-zero temperatures

It’s nearing midnight in an unadorned bar on a backstreet off Sükhbaatar Square, and 31 year-old Minjuur rubs her hands to shake off the cold.

Speaking in a whisper, she explains her average evening. Men pick her up from the park by the Central Tower office building, then they go to a nearby hotel for an hour of sex.

Minjuur has a small scar on her right upper cheek that is visible despite her makeup, and she counts on her fingers the number of friends who have died in her line of work. It is minus 20 degrees Celsius tonight, and Minjuur has a chest-rattling cough. Vodka helps her ward off the chill. She says the winter is hard.

Mongolia’s capital presents grim working conditions for the city’s prostitutes. Ulaanbaatar is often overlooked as a centre of prostitution, but – despite increased activity in border areas – it remains the hub for the country’s sex work and sexual trafficking. But as the city’s prostitutes experience violence and social stigma, some are navigating riskier working environments beyond the city.  

“Most of these women working in this field are very poor and need cash,” said outreach officer Erdenesuren. “They are driven by necessity.” Erdenesuren – who like many Mongolians only uses one name – works for the NGO Perfect Ladies (In Mongolian: Tugs Busguichuud), which promotes prevention of sexually transmitted infections among prostitutes and helps them leave sex work.

Prostitution and human trafficking are illegal within Mongolia but the sex trade is growing. While some women solicit openly on the streets of the capital, others work discreetly out of karaoke bars, saunas and massage parlours. Mongolia is a source, transit and destination country for sex labour.

According to a 2014 report from the United Nations Institute for Training and Research, between 3,000 and 5,000 women and children are trafficked each year from rural communities into cities and beyond the nation’s borders.

Unicef estimates that roughly 19,000 sex workers are active in Mongolia, however, some field workers cite much higher numbers. The state’s population sits at around 3 million. While male prostitutes do exist, they are a small minority.

The rapid growth of the country’s mining sector over the last decade has created a workforce of isolated men, thereby spurring on the industry. Skirting the border with China, the southern Gobi Desert – where mineral mining projects run by Rio Tinto and other global operations are located – has become a new focal point for prostitution.

“In Ulaanbaatar there is violence (against prostitutes) – from families and from working people – but inside the mining area everyone comes for the same goal: making money, and they don’t judge one another,” said Sorbonne University Ethnology Professor Gaëlle Lacaze.

Amidst lines of trucks parked against a barren expanse of sand, a converted bus-turned-café is the only option for some tea and conversation. Enkhtaivan Baatar is biding time at Tavan Tolgoi – a coal deposit in Ömnögovi province within the Gobi Desert.

The 39-year-old truck driver in a black hoodie is waiting for his coal shipment so he can drive his cargo across the border. He has been doing this job for three years, and has seen many prostitutes. Cars filled with women pull up off the highway and, when the price is settled, join the drivers in the cab of their truck.

Baatar also describes a sign close to the border that advertises women for sale and lists a number to call if interested. “Wherever there is money and men they come,” he said.

Mongolia’s mining boom started in the early 2000s and mining now accounts for around 20 per cent of Mongolia’s gross domestic product. The growth in mining has created a spike in internal migration to mining areas – most notably Ömnögovi.

The country has a 0.03 per cent general prevalence rate of HIV among adults and, for Mongolians infected, treatment is free. As of 2017 data, however, only 32 per cent of people living with HIV knew their status.

“Mining industries are notorious hotspots for HIV infection,” said UNAIDS Regional Director for Asia and the Pacific Eamonn Murphy. “There is money around, and people are away from their homes and cultural, social and other inhibitors, and so they take risks that they wouldn’t normally.”

The coal route from the Tavan Tolgoi coal deposit to the Chinese border is synonymous with sex work fuelled by the mining industry. Despite being from the capital, 32 year-old Uka is intimately familiar with this stretch of transit. Uka has been earning a living as a sex worker in Mongolia for almost a decade.

The petite 32-year-old entered the industry to earn money after her daughter was born. She began in Ulaanbaatar, but now works along the border. Her clients –  truck drivers – sometimes don’t have cash, so they pay her in fuel. Uka would rather work for diesel then return to the conditions facing prostitutes in Ulaanbaatar.  

According to Uka, prostitutes in the capital face frequent violence from pimps and customers, but Ömnögovi is better. In contrast to the stigma felt in the city, she describes the border area as accepting and open. Uka explains that four or five women travel to the border area with a driver and rent a ger (a traditional round felted tent) to stay.

They need to travel in groups – it is dangerous to be a woman alone with so many truck drivers. Uka reaches up and adjusts an earring as she lists her rate: 50,000 MNT per act, with an hourly rate of 80,000 MNT and a daily rate of 200,000 MNT (roughly £14, £23 and £58). If the drivers don’t have cash, they pay in fuel: 40 or 50 litres of diesel for one act, 100 litres for one hour. The women then resell the fuel when they can for money.

Yet when Uka is soliciting in south Gobi, she is working without resources. “It’s risky there,” said Erdenesuren, of working near the Chinese border. “The ones who like to take risks go there.”

In Ulaanbaatar, there are STI awareness programmes and condom distribution, social workers like Erdenesuren try to check up on the women they know, but in the Gobi there is no such infrastructure. Uka explains how the women she works with buy contraceptives off one another when they run out, as there is no store to purchase more. Often customers don’t want to use them anyway.

Ulaanbaatar may offer prostitutes more contact with NGOs providing outreach, but it is a harsh environment for women working in the trade. Previously, Uka sold sex in a sauna in the capital where she alleges police and customers beat her. She claims ultra-nationalists target sex workers on the street and shave their heads to disgrace them. The Ulaanbaatar police did not respond to requests for comment on this story.Violence, drugs and sexual diseases | How de-regulating prostitution is failing women worldwide

In Mongolia, sex work is an occupation shrouded in shame and silence. Erdenesuren cites the cycle of humiliation and fear that keeps women from reaching out to the police and family: “It is better to have your bones broken, then your name dishonoured.”

Uka explains that people don’t openly talk about prostitution and why women end up in sex work. She left school after eighth grade and has few options to earn an income. “For some women, it is easier to open their legs than go to the factory,” said Lacaze, “because they have no diplomas. She is alone with children, she has to eat.”

Uka admits that her daughter has no idea how her mum earns an income. Her family believes she is a cook. In Ulaanbaatar, Minjuur tells her family that her nights are spent serving in a bar. Both women support multiple dependents with their earnings. “Nobody knows what they are doing, but everybody knows,” said Lacaze. “Everybody is complicit.”

The Nordic style house in the outskirts of Ulaanbaatar stands out against its surroundings, and its inhabitants are also trying to adapt. This is a safe house run by the Swedish anti-trafficking NGO Talita. It is privately funded with only four beds available.

Gaamaa occupies one of those beds. The tiny 22-year-old, in sweatpants and a t-shirt, looks like a university student relaxing between classes. She speaks softly. “If girls refuse to have sex, they abuse them and if they can’t change a girl, they sell her,” she said. “They call the trafficker and sell.”

Gaamaa has been bought and sold many times. In 2016, fleeing an abusive home, Gaamaa ended up at a sauna near the central railway station. There, in rooms with barred windows, she worked with four other women for a rate of 40,000 MNT for one hour and 60,000 MNT for two hours (roughly £11 and £17). Their madam supplied food and clothes, but never the money earned. The brothel sold her to another sauna when they found she was trying to escape, but not before she alleges being beaten as punishment and then raped by her attackers.

“Society think they [prostitutes] are garbage,” said Talita Mongolia founder and director Tserenchunt Byamba-Ochir. “There is no funding to protect victims, not one coin to protect victims of trafficking from the Mongolia government – they say we don’t have money for that.”

In 2017, the federal government cut funding to seven regional offices of Mongolia’s sole NGO designed to help sex workers – Perfect Ladies. Only three branches remain. Five women’s shelters operate, but four offer short term stays only. Talita’s Ulaanbaatar branch (the fifth shelter) is the sole long-term rehabilitation center for former prostitutes, and it is at capacity.Sex trafficking hot spot | Switzerland's disastrous prostitution laws

Eventually, Gaamaa was trafficked into China where she worked in multiple cities before a client helped her escape to the Mongolian embassy in Beijing. She arrived at Talita in late 2017.

Gaamaa used to shake as she talked about her experiences and she had nightmares. Now she wraps her arms around a stuffed bear and explains with a smile that she is looking into culinary college. But Gaamaa is also anxious about living in the capital, afraid that someone from her old life will recognise her.

Byamba-Ochir also has concerns. With many of the cases where Talita assists, the traffickers are not charged. Women feel intimidated and change their stories in court, or get pulled back into the trade. Gaamaa believes if she hadn’t been trafficked to China, she would still be a prostitute.

“Here in Mongolia they are not kind,” said Gaamaa. It’s really hard to escape here – it’s everywhere in Ulaanbaatar. It is very hard to escape Mongolia.” 

[incoldbloodsblog]

The Darkweb: Exploring the hidden crimes of the Internet

The Dark Web is a complex and often misunderstood segment of the internet, shrouded in secrecy and notorious for its association with illegal activities. This hidden part of the web, accessible only through specialised software like Tor (The Onion Router), allows users to navigate anonymously, which has fostered both legitimate and illicit uses. The Dark Web is a subset of the Deep Web, which itself constitutes about 90% of the internet not indexed by traditional search engines. While most users interact with the Surface Web, the Deep Web includes private databases and secure sites, whereas the Dark Web is specifically designed for anonymity and privacy. The Dark Web emerged from projects aimed at ensuring secure communication, originally developed by the U.S. Department of Defence in the early 2000s. [1] [2]

Hidden Crimes in the Dark Web

The anonymity offered by the dark web has made it a hub for numerous forms of criminal activity. From illegal marketplaces to cybercrime forums, this underworld of the internet is teeming with hidden dangers.

Illicit Markets and Drug Trade

One of the most notorious aspects of the dark web is its marketplace for illegal goods. Websites like the now-defunct Silk Road offered a platform where users could buy and sell illegal drugs, firearms, stolen goods, and counterfeit documents. These black markets are often operated using cryptocurrencies such as Bitcoin to further mask identities and ensure untraceable transactions.According to a 2019 study by the European Monitoring Centre for Drugs and Drug Addiction, the dark web drug trade has grown exponentially, with millions of dollars' worth of drugs being sold monthly across various platforms . [3] [4]

2. Cybercrime and Hacking Services

The dark web also serves as a marketplace for cybercriminals. Hacking tools, ransomware-as-a-service, and stolen data are regularly exchanged in these hidden corners of the internet. Criminals offer services ranging from DDoS attacks to the sale of stolen credit card information and personal identities. Some forums even provide tutorials for novice hackers looking to learn cybercrime techniques. [5]

3. Human Trafficking and Exploitation

While less publicly discussed, the dark web has been linked to disturbing trends in human trafficking and child exploitation. Illegal forums allow criminals to sell services or even traffic victims, relying on the secrecy provided by encryption and anonymity transactions. These criminal activities often occur alongside other heinous content like child abuse imagery, which is tragically prevalent in certain corners of the dark web . [5]

4.Weapons and Assassination-for-Hire

Another dark aspect of the dark web is the sale of illegal firearms, explosives, and even assassination services. Websites provide arms to buyers without the restrictions and regulations of the surface web. Though some claims of hitmen-for-hire on the dark web have been debunked as scams, the sale of illicit firearms remains a significant concern for global law enforcement agencies .

Top 5 Notorious Cases on the Dark Web

(Content Warning: This list includes some horrifying incidents and scary dark web stories. We suggest you skip entries if you’re faint of heart or suffering from any type of anxiety or stress disorder.)

1. Banmeet Singh’s $100M+ dark web drug empire gets brought to light

Starting with a fairly recent case, Banmeet Singh of Haldwani, Northern India was sentenced to eight years in prison in late January 2024 after he was found to have created and led a multi-million dollar drug enterprise.The Indian national also forfeited $150 million in cryptocurrency. This proved to be illegal drug money that was laundered into cryptocurrency. Singh used various dark web marketplaces to create his drug empire. According to the U.S. Department of Justice, Singh shipped drugs from Europe to eight distribution centers in the US. After, these were transported to and sold in all 50 US states and other countries in the Americas. Singh was arrested in London, where he was residing in 2019. In 2023, he was extradited to the US. [7]

2. Operation Dark hunTor results in 150 arrests in nine countries

We’re moving from one multi-million-dollar illegal contraband case to the next. In 2021, Euro pol, Eurojust, and the police forces of nine countries conducted one of the biggest anti-crime operations the dark web has ever seen: Dark hunter. This operation resulted in 150 arrests across Australia, Bulgaria, France, Germany, Italy, the Netherlands, Switzerland, the United Kingdom, and the United States. All of the arrested were allegedly involved in buying or selling illegal goods on the dark web. The authorities found some articles in the possession of the arrested that strengthened their case: EUR 26.7 million (USD 31 million) in cash and virtual currencies, 234 kg of drugs, and 45 firearms.Italian authorities also managed to close down two dark web markets that boasted over 100,000 listings for illegal goods, DeepSea and Berlusconi. [7]

3. Operation DisrupTor exposes a dark web drugs distribution center

Amid the Covid pandemic, most businesses were struggling. Meanwhile, Operation DisrupTor suggests the drug business was still prospering. In February 2020, a group of FBI agents found 50 pounds of methamphetamine and thousands of Adderall pills in a storage shed in Los Angeles. The drugs, and the firearms that were also found, belonged to a crime network that had completed over 18,000 drug sales on the dark web. The criminal syndicate hid the drugs in a shed that they had made to look like a legitimate mail-order business. Their dark web drug sales included shipments to other dark net vendors, street dealers, and actual consumers. [7]

WATCH FULL VIDEO [8]

4. Attempt to hire a dark web hitman backfires

Now and then, crazy deep web stories pop up about how easy it is to hire a dark web hitman. One of these urban legends, however, turned out to be true. In February 2024, a woman from Canberra, Australia, pleaded guilty to inciting another to murder. The woman claimed to have contacted a dark web hitman (on the dark web marketplace Sinaloa Cartel) to murder her wealthy parents as part of an inheritance scheme. Supposedly, the total agreed-upon sum for the murder was $20,000, of which she had already paid $6,000 as a downpayment, using Bitcoin. It’s hard to say if the woman was actually talking to a contract killer or a scammer. Let’s just say we’re just happy the Australian court system was on to her before we could find out. While we don’t encourage anyone to go looking for a hitman on the dark web or elsewhere, this case goes to show that even on the dark web and while using crypto, many actions are retraceable. We always recommend people with good intentions to go for maximum privacy, as it’s no one’s business what they’re doing on the dark web. A great way to improve your privacy is by using NordVPN. NordVPN hides your IP address and encrypts your traffic, plus it blocks malicious links. [7]

5. No Love Deep Web takes dark web enthusiasts on a treasure hunt

Back in August of 2012, visitors on the dark web could find clues scattered on the network that led them through a fascinating alternate reality game. Much like Cicada 3031’s 4chan game, the clues led regular users through an array of clever clues set up like a treasure hunt. The dark web game employed a lot of encryption means to hide its hints, including the Caesar cipher, QR codes, Morse code, and a lot of other similar encryption methods. All of the clues were spread around dark websites, and one participant recounts the experience as quite thrilling:

So what was going on? Well, it wasn’t a secret government agency recruiting new members, and it wasn’t a feat of a group of cybercriminals.

Rather, the game was created by the experimental hip-hop group Death Grips to promote their new album, No Love Deep Web. [7]

READ MORE CASES [7]

Law Enforcement and the Fight Against Dark Web Crime

Despite the anonymity and encryption, law enforcement agencies around the world have made significant progress in cracking down on dark web criminality. In 2021, a multinational law enforcement effort, Operation Dark HunTor, led to the arrest of 150 individuals across multiple countries, targeting major drug vendors and illegal marketplaces on the dark web .

Undercover operations, improved digital forensics, and advances in cryptocurrency tracing have given authorities new tools to combat the hidden crimes of the dark web. However, for every takedown, new marketplaces and forums emerge, reflecting the cat-and-mouse dynamic between law enforcement and cybercriminals. [6]

Conclusion

While the dark web itself is not inherently evil, its secrecy has allowed criminals to thrive in ways that are difficult to regulate or even detect. From drug trafficking and cybercrime to human exploitation, the hidden crimes of the dark web reveal a darker side of digital anonymity. As law enforcement and technology continue to evolve, so too will the battle to uncover and combat these underground activities. Nonetheless, the dark web serves as a potent reminder that as technology advances, so too does the need for robust security measures and ethical oversight.

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sources:

https://www.varutra.com/the-hidden-internet-exploring-the-secrets-of-the-dark-web/

2.https://sopa.tulane.edu/blog/everything-you-should-know-about-dark-web

3. https://www.unsw.edu.au/research/ndarc/news-events/blogs/2016/01/dark-net-drug-marketplaces-begin-to-emulate-organised-street-cri

4. https://www.euda.europa.eu/darknet_en

5. https://www.findlaw.com/criminal/criminal-charges/dark-web-crimes.html

6. https://syntheticdrugs.unodc.org/syntheticdrugs/en/cybercrime/detectandrespond/investigation/darknet.html

7. file:///D:/New%20folder/The%2013%20Most%20Notorious%20Cases%20on%20the%20Dark%20Web.html

8. https://youtu.be/d4NSfrOtMfU?feature=shared